


revenant

by triviaseesaw (ladydaredevil)



Category: The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Gen, Post Defenders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-16 04:05:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13046133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydaredevil/pseuds/triviaseesaw
Summary: A dead lawyer and a private investigator walk into a bar.





	revenant

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lissaline](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lissaline/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide! I sort of... combined two of your prompts, I hope you like it!

The place he’d asked her to meet him at is a dive bar she's never been kicked out of. She wonders how he knew, because there aren't a whole lot of those left in Hell's Kitchen.

She’d almost hung up the moment she’d placed the voice, because she’d either lost it or weird shit was happening again, and either way it couldn’t mean anything good.

But then she hadn’t, and here they are.

He's sitting there already, drinking a beer, and she feels a pang of – something. Annoyance, probably.

"Hey, asshole," she greets, dropping on the stool next to him.

He doesn't startle.

Of course he doesn't, probably knew she was there the minute she walked in the door. Maybe before that. She doesn't know how far his weirdass senses stretch. They haven't exactly sat down and discussed it while they were trying to keep his psycho undead ex and her buddies from wrecking New York.

"Hello Jessica."

He's a little bruised, but he looks pretty okay for someone who had a whole building collapse on him a couple months ago. Maybe the fetish gear's actually good for something. Maybe he's a zombie, too, now. She's already decided she doesn't want to know. If her job's taught her anything, it's that sometimes knowing isn't worth it.

She orders a whiskey, tells the bartender to put it on his tab. An eyebrow appears over his sunglasses, but he doesn't protest.

"Have you told your friends you're not dead yet? Journalist lady and that guy with the stupid name?"

She hasn't kept in touch. Not that it's something she would do in general, but even less so because they’re Murdock's friends, and Jessica and the others had left Murdock to die. Which was his own damn idea, but still. Still.

She's seen Nelson around Hogarth's. He looks like someone shot his dog most of the time.

Trish still talks to Page, though. That woman seems like one hell of a magnet for trouble, somehow managed to find someone even more fucked up to hang around. It's no wonder she and Trish get along. It’s like they’re chronically drawn to the shadiest people.

His mild expression turns into a frown.

"No. It's best if they're not associated with me anymore. They have careers to think of, lives to live. They'll be safer this way."

"Oh, spare me the self-sacrificing bullshit, Murdock. We both know they’re grown-ass adults who can make their own decisions."

She can't say she's always been immune to that kind of thinking. She has breakable, regular people too. But she's had enough Afterschool Special talks to know that people are gonna do what they're gonna do. Especially when their name is Trish Walker. So, might as well keep an eye on them.

He'll figure it out at some point, probably. You never know with Murdock. He’s so stubborn it borders on insanity.

"I don't particularly want to be involved with you, either," she adds. "And yet here we are."

He cracks a smile, and she feels a – a thing, again. Gross.

"Yeah, well. You can handle yourself, and I could use your help with something."

"You'd better be able to pay. I'm not feeling super charitable at the moment."

She'd been doing almost fine, finances-wise, until the latest clusterfuck. It had been less world-threatening than the Hand things, but still a fucking mess.

He nods, and she wonders where he's getting his money, exactly. It's not like he can just go back to being a lawyer, being officially dead and all. 

"How are the others? Luke and Danny?"

"Ask them yourself. I'm not their therapist, no matter what Rand thinks."

They'd all taken it pretty hard, the way the whole Hand thing had ended. She’s not about to tell him that, though.

She’d stayed at Trish’s for a few weeks. So she could keep an eye out (so they could both watch out for each other, Trish had insisted) until they could be reasonably sure that no more surprise ninja attacks were forthcoming. That had been the reason in theory, anyway. Jessica’s not used to losing – colleagues, since she avoids making them in the first place. And yet Matt Murdock, asshole extraordinaire, had grown on her. Of all people.

She and Luke talk sometimes. Things still aren’t super great, what with – everything, but they talk. She’s glad he has Claire. They seem good for each other, and they’re both good people who deserve some peace.   

Danny’s usually too preachy to bother with, but there are some advantages to having connections to someone that ridiculously loaded. Besides, he drives Hogarth crazy and Jessica gets more than a little satisfaction from seeing her usual unflappable demeanour shaken.

Murdock shakes his head.

“I’d rather not tell more people until I get things sorted out. I hope everyone’s been doing well, though.”

Enough with the small talk. They’re not two old coworkers having a drink to catch up. She drains her glass, orders another one.

He wants something from her, and she’s almost certain she won’t like it, so she might as well get it over with already.

"Anyway, what do you want?"  
  
“People have been asking about me, and I want to know why. How they made the connection between Matt Murdock and Daredevil.”

“Well gee, ever think it was because both Murdock and Leather Suit Guy were seen with the rest of us? Disappeared around the same time? There, problem solved.”

 “But why look into it now, when I haven’t been active in months?”

“Who’re those people, anyway? Enemies of yours?”  

“Law enforcement. The FBI, I think.”

“Fuck. And you want me to get involved in that?”

“I don’t – want you to get in trouble. But I can’t have anyone noticing me, and I have to know what’s going on before I can try to get my life back.”

She hums, dubious, and tries to work out how to pull it of. If she was going to do it.

“I’ll pay, I swear.” He pauses for a second, and she realises he’s probably… scanning her, or something. “You – you sound tired, Jessica. Is there anything I can do?”

She wonders what his idea of helping is. Beating up a few people, probably. Which she can do by her own damn self.

She signals the bartender for another drink, and he sighs.

“I’m fine. You’re the one trying to drag me into some bullshit again. Which, okay, is my job, but your bullshit in one hell of a lot weirder than most people’s.”

He looks uncomfortable.

“You don’t have to – I just thought – But you might have too much on your plate already.”

She waves his concern aside, and then surprises herself by saying:   

"I’ll do it. You owe me one though, when you get your shit together at some point. God knows how long that’ll take.”

He’s smiling again, and it shouldn’t be this satisfying.

“Yeah, it might be a while.”

She thinks of something, suddenly.  

“Well, maybe you can do something for my peace of mind—is your creepier half around?"

He pauses, and his expression drops a little.

"Elektra? No she's... You don't have to worry about her anymore."

“Sorry for your… loss,” she tries, feeling like an idiot.

It gets startled laughter out of him.

“No, no, she’s fine, it’s just—it was best if we parted ways.”

He frowns suddenly, head tilted to the side, and she wonders what he heard. Wonders what it would be like, to hear every awful thing going on in a New York City block. No wonder he’s a mess.

“I should go, I don’t want to keep you.”

The excuse is transparent, but she doesn’t call him out on it.

He pays for their drinks in cash, and she doesn’t ask where that comes from. Especially since he also leaves her an advance.

He gets up, hesitates for a moment and then turns back to her.

“You’re a good friend, Jessica.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Murdock.”

He laughs again and waves her goodbye, off to – fight crime, or whatever it is he does.

She stays at the bar for a while. She ordered better stuff than she usually does, since he was paying. She might as well enjoy it.  

She’s not sure what to think of the fact that he came to her for help. She doesn’t know what to make of the fact that she’ll do it, even though it sounds like more trouble than it’s worth.

She debates getting another round, decides against it.

She’ll call Trish, see if she’s free. Trish will be glad Murdock’s alive.


End file.
